


Life in Technicolor

by chasingthenight



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Fluff, I'm still bad at tags, M/M, More Fluff, Multi, Romance, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, not sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7587487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingthenight/pseuds/chasingthenight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Without a soulmate, Yien, like so many others, has never seen the world in color. Jinyoung comes along and paints his entire universe-- with a splash of glitter on the side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Splash of Green in a Sea of Monochrome

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a preface than anything. The universe in which this story takes place is a universe where people see the world in black and white until they meet their soulmate, after which they begin to see things in color. Some people go their entire lives-- date, get married, have kids-- without ever seeing color; others might grow apart from one soulmate and meet multiple more throughout their lifetime. Some find that one and stay with them forever. One trick with this, however, is that the color is minimal at first and for a while they can only see it when they are with their soulmate or even just in the same room (whether they know they're there or not); but the stronger the relationship is and the more it grows, the more they can see and the longer they see it until, eventually the color never fades. Some might reach that point in a couple days, some might take years. Touching makes the color move vibrant, and the color grows and spreads and brightens based on the level of intimacy.

He tries to adjust to the dawn, letting the tears fall where they may, because it is morning; it is morning, and there is so much to see.

Yien has never been one for mornings, though, and despite the consistent schedule he’s been following for the past three months, he just can’t ever seem to pull himself out of bed when his alarm screeches at him every morning. He’d blame the time change-- Los Angeles is sixteen hours behind Seoul-- but he’d adjusted to that weeks ago, very shortly after he’d moved into his university apartment. Sure, he might be a night owl, but that had never been much of a problem back home. Then again, getting out of bed isn’t an issue when you have the sun and surf waiting for you right outside your back door.

But this isn’t Los Angeles, there’s no ocean even remotely within walking distance-- even then it doesn’t compare-- and Yien absolutely hates mornings now more than ever.

“Who the fuck takes classes at eight-in-the-fucking-morning?” he grumbles into his pillow only after playing a game of hide-and-seek with his phone in his blankets as it sings to him the chorus of some girl group pop song.

By the time Yien settles again, having manages to untangle himself from his sheets, he’s too awake to even consider sleeping through his first class. Besides, he has a paper due next week and it’s worth one quarter of his grade and he should really not skip any more days. That is what ultimately pulls him out of bed and forces him to face the day, dull and gray and colorless as it might be. He pulls on a light t-shirt and a dark pair of pants and runs a comb through his light colored hair-- it’s supposed to be blonde, not that he can tell-- before venturing down the monochrome hallway into the monochrome kitchen where a monochrome male fixes a monochrome breakfast.

“Coffee to-go this morning?” Yugyeom, his ever vibrant roommate, is already in the kitchen, cleaning up from the breakfast he’d made and the lunches he’d put together. He hands Yien a glass of orange juice and a plate of bacon and eggs and fried potatoes and ushers him over to the table and out of the way. His hard work makes Yien feel like an inadequate roommate, not to mention an inadequate human being. He sucks at being human.

“You are a grumpy teenager,” Yien says, voice still gravelly from sleep, as he slides into one of the chairs at the table and tucks into his plate of food. “How is it that you manager to get up every morning before I do and be so fucking cheery?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Yugyeom laughs. “And I don’t stay up all night watching porn.”

Yien, in the middle of chewing a mouthful of food, chokes and wheezes, and it takes him a long minute to regain his bearings. When he does, his gaze bears down on the younger male. “I do not watch porn all night--”

“Just half the night, then.” Yugyeom smirks, pouring half a fresh pot of black coffee into a thermos.

And Yien is so done with him. “Fuck you.”

“You’re gorgeous, but I don’t swing that way, sorry.” That little grin crosses the boy’s face again as he packs their lunches into two separate bags has Yien abandoning the rest of his breakfast in favor of finishing getting ready for the day. It’s all in good nature, though. Yien knows Yugyeom is just playing around and Yugyeom will understand that he has things he needs to get done. It’s how they function in such a high stress environment.

Yugyeom is a dance major at the university where he focuses mostly on ballet and contemporary while also balancing a minor in business and management-- his parent’s idea. His classes start at eight in the morning and while they end at around three in the afternoon, Yien doesn’t usually see him until well after dinner; often enough he won’t see Yugyeom until breakfast the next morning. He studies hard and practices harder and Yien commends him for his effort, especially when they pay off and he receives high marks. There’s also a girlfriend in the picture, but they’ve only been dating a few months and Yugyeom has yet to bring her around, though Yien doesn’t blame him.

Yien himself is a psychology major with a minor in creative writing, and while his schedule doesn’t keep him out so late, it certainly does keep him awake well into the night. He studies hard so his parents will let him stay-- “Get good grades and we’ll pay for your tuition”-- because as much as he loves his home, Seoul is somewhere he’s always wanted to live, a culture he’s been fascinated with for years. He also works part time in the university library to earn a little extra money so his parents don’t have to worry about sending him so much for things like rent and food and those nights when he goes out with his friends.

They’re both busy and spending time together doesn’t always happen, so they take what they can get, even if it’s a thirty second conversation over a quick breakfast before they’re both out the door. This morning, they have a little time together, but it’s mostly spent in their own spaces as they gather their things and make sure they’re ready for classes.

Some twenty minutes later, Yien pokes his head into Yugyeom’s room to let him know he’s leaving first. “I have a paper due next week so I’m going to the library after classes are done. You should stop by after practice.”

“Can’t,” Yugyeom answers as he stuffs his dance gear into one bag and his books into another. “Date with Dahyun tonight. We’re going to see the ballet performance at her university and then we’re going out after with some of her friends, so I won’t be home until late.”

Yien should be hurt that she’s introduced him to her friends but Yugyeom won’t bring her around the guys-- but he’s not so he doesn’t make a fuss over it. Besides, their group of friends might be a little too rowdy for whoever Yugyeom might bring to meet them. “Right, right. Forgot about that. Well, have fun.”

“You, too.” He looks up and smiles, that serious smile that Yien has lovingly dubbed the Mom Grin because anything that follows is sure to be something a mother might say or do. “Don’t forget to take a break and eat dinner. You always forget.”

“You sure you don’t wanna sleep with me, Gyeommie?” Yien teases, wiggling his brows as he smiles back.

There’s amusement in Yugyeom’s expression, but he shoos Yien off anyway, aware that they’re both going to be late if they continue this banter.. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Alright,” Yien relents when he realizes he’s going to be late if he keeps this up, ducking out of the doorway and down the hall. “I’ll see you tomorrow! Don’t forget about Youngjae’s dinner tomorrow night. He’ll kill us both if we’re not there!” He wish he were kidding.

* * *

Yien makes it to his first class, his psychology class, on time. By no means is he the first one there, but he’s in his seat before the professor shows up and that is noteworthy in his book. Halfway through the lecture he realizes he’s lucky he got out of bed that morning, because today’s class includes due dates for projects, the instructions for their next paper, and an extension on the one that’s due next week-- all because their professor’s daughter just had a baby and he’s flying overseas tomorrow to visit them.

The next few classes-- literature, chemistry, and calculus-- go much the same. More due dates, more projects, and other miscellaneous announcements and by the time lunch rolls around, Yien is debating the pros and cons of throwing himself off a cliff. He eventually decides that it’s not a matter to settle on an empty stomach, so he hunkers down at a table in the cafeteria with a couple of his calculus classmates and digs into the lunch Yugyeom has packed for him today.

Since meeting three months ago, Yugyeom has taken it upon himself to show Yien around, to help him adjust and learn the culture, and one of Yien’s favorite things are the lunches he packs. They’re typically some traditional Korean dish or another with a little note on its origin, history, and typical useage. Today’s dish is Korean Army Stew, and it sounds both gross and delicious at the same time and, like everything else his roommate has made for him, he eats happily and until everything is gone.

After lunch, Yien moves through his next three classes-- Korean, human development, and speech-- with as much excitement as one can muster up for such classes. Three o’clock finally rolls around and Yien is free for the rest of the afternoon, but rather than attend a group study session with his friends he decides to set up camp in the corner of the school’s library. Studying in groups is nice sometimes, but he needs to make a dent in his paper and maybe get a head start on the one that’s due next month

Two hour pass and Yien’s table is littered with books and journals and freshly printed magazine articles or copies of book pages where he has notes and references and citations scribbled in the margins and between the lines. By then, he’s considered changing topics more than a handful of times, and the only thing stopping him from making a change is the looming due date and the fact that he’s already run his idea through his professor who is looking forward to reading what he finds. He can’t give up, not this late in the game, so he spreads out and uses every available surface to plan and outline and spread the information he finds. To onlookers, it’s a terrible mess, but Yien has his own system of organized chaos and while he might not be finding exactly what he wants, it’s a start and he at least has something he can work with.

Eventually, Yien loses track of time and he barely notices how the library begins to darken, how the lights flicker on one by one, and how students slowly trickle out. He’s off in his own world, the real one drowned out with music and research, and it doesn’t even occur to him that he’s missed dinner or that his phone has been buzzing at him for the better part of two hours-- likely Yugyeom checking in on him, making sure he’s taking breaks and feeding himself, which he most certainly is not.

He’s browsing one of the shelves in the psychology section when it happens. It’s so startling that Yien jumps, books tumbling from his arms and yanking the earbuds from his ears on the way down, but he doesn’t bother picking them back up. They’re no longer of interest to him. No, his undivided attention is on the splash of green that colors his vision, the spine of a book on the self in front of him, and he stares at it as though it’s pages hold the answers to every one of the world’s problems. Eventually, he reaches out and brushing his fingers along the edge of the book before pulling it a few inches out of it’s space.

Somehow, despite having never seen it before-- his parents have told him about it, have tried to describe it to him-- Yien knows what this color is. It’s the color of grass, of the park lawns he passes every day, it’s the color of rose stems and lily pads and pine tree needles-- and though he can see none of that now, just this single book here in his hands, the world suddenly looks a whole lot different to him.

Once again, Yien is so wrapped up in his own head that he doesn’t realize that the world around him continues to move, continues to revolve and exist, which is why he jumps when a voice slices through the silence.

“Do you see that, too?”


	2. Cherry Red Cheeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... this chapter ended up being quite a bit bigger than anticipated. But, due to planning, I was unable to split it up. So... have a 4K+ chapter! Enjoy!

Yien will forever deny the sound that erupts from his throat, something between a squeak and a yelp, when he notices the male on the other side of the bookshelf, peering at him over the books. All he can see for the moment is a set of eyes behind a fringe of dark hair, but what gorgeous eyes they are even without a spec of color. However, Yien’s immediate reaction is to shove the book back in its place, but he forces it in a little too hard and sends the book opposite it lurching forward where it smacks straight into the stranger’s nose.  _ Only me _ , he thinks to himself when the male stumbles back with a groan and brings a hand to his face.  _ Only I could fuck up like this _ .

“Oh my god-- I’m sorry,” Yien apologizes as he circles around the end of the aisle and peers sheepishly around the corner-- his mind, though, retreats back to the book and the shock of green it puts in his otherwise black and white and gray world. “I’m so sorry. I just-- I didn’t mean it. You scared me, that’s all. Are you okay?” 

The male is quiet for a moment, fingers touching gingerly at his nose and brushing just beneath it as if waiting for blood to gush down his face. Yien doesn’t think he’d hit him that hard, but suddenly he second guesses himself and worries that he’ll have to escort him to the first aid station to explain what happened. Then he’s wrinkling his nose and a smile pulls across his lips and Yien swears his sees another spark of color out of the corner of his eyes. But, goddamn, that smile, that toothy grin that Yien thinks could rival the sun and be the solution for world peace….

“You never answered my question,” the stranger says, stepping around a gaping Yien and into the other aisle where he plucks the still green book from the shelf and examines it as though it’s some sacred treasure-- and it might as well be. “Is it just me or can you see this, too? The color, I mean.”

Yien nods, but he doesn’t say a word otherwise. His mind is still reeling, attempting to catch up with reality and what all this means-- but of course he knows what it means, it’s just a matter of accepting it. Of all places to meet his soulmate, the university library is probably the last place on Yien’s list and he’s having a hard time believing this is it. It’s a little anti-climactic but… there’s no one else nearby and Yien hasn’t crossed paths with anyone else in hours, and as far as he knows the library is mostly empty-- as far as he knows, it’s only him and this male. And as much as it frightens him, terrifies him, it excites him all the same and he knows he has to accept this as it is.

“Park Jinyoung.” The male’s voice tears Yien from his thoughts once again. 

When Yien’s focus shifts, he half expects an outstretched hand, but the male’s, Jinyoung’s, hands are curled around the edge of the green-covered book and he looks unwilling to initiate contact. Not that Yien blames him. He’s heard stories, he’s sure Jinyoung has, too, and while the thought of being surrounded by a plethora of colors sounds fantastic, he’d rather not overwhelm himself or the other. So Yien stuffs his hands into to the pockets of his jacket and keeps to himself. Though, perhaps that hadn’t been the right thing to do, at least not at that very moment. 

“Look, I’m not stupid,” he continues, taking Yien’s silence and actions as reluctance, and he turns away long enough to put the book back on the shelf. “And I know you’re not stupid. You’ve been pouring over psych books and journals for hours.” Yien’s eyes widen at the realization that he was being watched, that Jinyoung had been watching him. “So I know you’re very intelligent. You won’t be able to ignore this forever so you might as well not even start.” 

“Sorry,” Yien replies, voice catching in his throat. “I… I’m still catching up.” He coughs to clear the lump and reaches up to drag a trembling hand through his hair.  “Yien. Tuan Yien.” 

Jinyoung smiles and, god, there are those flashes of color again, the ones that he can just barely see, but are there nonetheless. He wants him to keep doing that, the toothy grin thing, but he’s too flustered to ask and he doesn’t trust that the words will come out of his mouth in the right order. Yien feels his cheeks flare up with heat and he ducks his head to hide the color that’s sure to rise to the surface and, jesus christ, since when is he so goddamn shy? But Jinyoung doesn't seem to notice, and if he does he doesn't say anything. He just smiles that stupid smile and makes Yien’s heart pound in his chest in its apparent attempt to escape.

“I know this is gonna sound really weird,” Jinyoung says, crouching down to pick up what Yien had dropped earlier; Yien had nearly forgotten about it. “But can I sit with you while you study?” 

Yein doesn’t give the question much consideration, doesn’t think he needs to because there’s only one reasonable answer and he’s not going to turn his soulmate away. So he nods and holds out his hands as his things are passed to him. “Believe it or not, that is not the strangest thing I’ve heard today,” he says, shuffling the books around so they sit nicely in his arms. “I’m roommates with a teenager. He can be an asshole.” 

“I have one of those,” Jinyoung laughs and Yien swears that if he does that again he might spontaneously combust. “He doesn’t speak much Korean, though, so I can’t understand him most of the time. I think he’s Thai or something. But the intonations are still there.” 

Yien smiles a little and turns to head back to his table. Only then, from this perspective, can he see how much of a mess he’s made of things. The entire surface of the table, which is meant for four people, is covered with books and magazines and the like, with his laptop and notebooks placed neatly to the side. He’ll swear it’s organized and that he can find everything he needs, but he could understand if someone were to doubt him. 

Upon closer inspection, Yien also realizes that all four chairs have been rearranged and he has pages and books lying across all but the one he’d been occupying. He sets his recent findings on the chair that’s his and proceeds to clear off another, trying to note what he’s moving and where he’s putting it so he can find it later when he needs it. 

“You don't have to move everything.” Yien pays little attention to the voice behind him. “I can sit on the floor.”

“Too late.” Yien has already cleared off a chair, having relocated the books to a corner of the table without making too much of a mess of his organization. “Just… don’t touch anything. I still need to make photocopies of everything and write down reference numbers so I can find the books again if I need them.” He’s nothing if just hyper-organized, especially when it comes to his school work and papers that could make or break his grade. 

Despite the new distraction and the ones that keep appearing in flashes, Yien settles back in and finds his pace again, jumping from page to page as he jots notes and asks himself questions and marks the pages he needs copies of. Even though he’s working, trying his best to keep focused on the task at hand-- because even though he has a new deadline, he doesn't want to push it to the side where he knows he'll forget about it until the last minute-- he can see Jinyoung out of the corner of his eye as he observes. It's distracting, but not nearly as distracting as the splotches of color that dot his vision from time to time or the impossibly tight knot that sits in his stomach.

He still manages to work for a while and even makes a break in the section that had been giving him trouble, so he writes diligently, checking and rechecking the facts and making sure he notes his citations and so forth. It’s an arduous process, one with many under-the-breath swears and quite groans of exasperation, but he’s making a dent so he’s delighted regardless of the effort.

Eventually, there’s a break in the quiet between him and his newly found soul mate, who sits beside him for who knows how long before making any sound at all. “Can I see your phone for a sec?” There's a theme, Yien notes when Jin young pulls his attention back to reality again. 

Absently, because he really had heard him, Yien takes the device out of his pocket, but he hesitates before handing it over. “You not going to go through my browser history or take a bunch of weird photos, are you?” Not that there’s anything weird or suspicious on his phone. His mother sends him pictures of his nieces and nephews and the rest of his family; his father sends him memes at a rate that’s almost obnoxious. The only thing questionable might be his psychology research, but that, he figures, should be understandable. 

“I just want to give you my number, dork,” Jinyoung explains, holding out a hand. “I’ll have plenty of time for the rest, but not right now.” Not right now. That means Yien has to anticipate finding weird things in his photos-- not that he minds, because he’s sure Yugyeom and Youngjae have done the same thing in the past. God knows his brother leaves him plenty of odd things.

He lets Jinyoung have the device, forcing his worry aside and turning back to his work for a few minutes longer. He’s too deep in Freudian theory to give up now. But it's not until his phone is passed back to him, screen lit up, that Yien realizes the time-- 9:30. “Shit.” 

“What?” Jinyoung’s attention snaps away from his own phone and he watches Yien with wide eyes. “Is something wrong?”

Yien shakes his head and begins to collect his thoughts on how to clean up in the shortest amount of time. “No. I didn't realize how late it was. I should get going.” 

Jinyoung appears disappointed, but he doesn’t fight to keep Yien’s company. Instead, he offers assistance. “Is there anything I can do to help you clean up? Put books away, maybe?” 

Putting the number of books away will be a task in itself and for that reason Yien almost tells him no, but he has another idea that’s even better. He takes one of his notebooks and a pencil and passes it over. “Any book or magazine or journal, write down the title, the author, the library’s reference number, and the pages I have marked.” That should be enough; if anything, the reference numbers will get him back to what he needs. 

Without protest, Jinyoung picks up the pencil and a book and begins jotting everything down, and Yien starts on his own page. Between both of them, it still takes a good fifteen minutes, but by the time they’re finished everything is stacked neatly in several piles and already his space seems so much cleaner. Now all Yien has are the notes he’s taken, still spread across the table, and as he beings to gather them Jinyoung stands, grabs a stack of books, and shuffles off towards the shelves. 

For the first time in a couple hours, Yien can breathe. He can breathe and he can stare after Jinyoung without feeling shy or embarrassed. So he does. He watches as Jinyoung weaves through the aisles, reading the numbers and looking for the world like he hopes he’s putting everything back in the right places. When he comes back for another stack, Yien looks away and pretends to organize his things, looking back up when Jinyoung returns to the bookcases. 

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” Jinyoung asks when he returns from putting back the last stack of magazines, hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans-- which, to Yein, seem too tight and not tight enough at the same time.

“I have this party thing I have to go to,” Yien notes absently as he fits the last of his notebooks in his bag, trying so hard not to look Jinyoung over like he has been. “He’ll kill me if I’m not there.” 

“Sounds like fun.” Jinyoung replies and Yien isn’t sure if he hears sarcasm or not, so he decides to read it as though he both does and doesn’t hear it. “Text me the time and I’ll pick you up.” 

Yien doesn’t even have the heart to tell him no, that it’s a gathering between close friends and that Youngjae would just as soon kill him for bringing an uninvited guest. But he can’t turn him down and he knows exactly why, and it’s for the same reason that Jinyoung invites himself. 

He’s heard stories about the first few weeks, even the first few months, where soul mates just can’t get enough of each other, where they crave the color and the high they have when they’re together. Yien might think he’s special, but he knows he’s not immune, just like he knows that they next few weeks will be spent trying to find as much time to spend with Jinyoung as possible. He’s weak and if there’s anyone to fall addict to the side effects of finding their soul mate, it’s Yien. 

“Okay.”

 

*   *   *

 

Yien decides very early on that next day that attending his classes is a horrible idea. He's too scattered, too unfocused to do anything productive. He keeps searching for color, for even the slightest tint in any of his surroundings. But nothing. Absolutely nothing, and he should know better than to hope. It takes time for the color to stick, for the bond to set in and for their own souls to adjust. It might be weeks before he can see color when they’re apart. But that doesn't stop him from looking. 

By the time three-o’clock comes around, Yien is exhausted from fighting his attention span and the urge to text Jinyoung to ask to meet up with him earlier. He knows he needs to study more, needs to get more work done on his papers, but he also knows that he wouldn’t be able to sit still long enough for either and that meeting up with Jinyoung would only mean more distractions. No, what he really needs is a nice long nap before he has to get ready for Youngjae’s party later that evening. 

So Yien goes back to his apartment, surprised to find that Yugyeom has opted out of his extended practice and is curled up on the couch with one of his textbooks. There’s very little conversation between them, not much more than quiet greetings, before Yien is shuffling down the hall to his room where he drops his bag on the floor and his body on his bed. He doesn’t even bother getting back up to close the door or his curtains and curls up for a nap just like that. 

Some few hours later, his phone screams at him from the pocket of his jeans and Yien jolts awake, nearly tumbling out of bed as he shoots upright. It takes him a moment to register the ringtone, that his phone is ringing and demands to he answered, and when he does he pulls it out and answers without glancing at the name on the screen-- really, though, it’s probably one of three people. 

“Hello?”

“Oh good! You’re still alive!” Jinyoung sounds both cheery and relieved as he voice comes through the line; he’s not exactly who Yien expected, but he’s not going to complain. “I started to get worried when you didn’t answer my texts.” Yien wonders absently how many of them are sitting there, unopened. “It’s almost six. Did you forget about the party?”

He should be in a panic, he really should, but he’s not awake enough for that much anxiety and, really, Youngjae should forgive him if he’s late because he’s a tired college student who sleeps when he can. Youngjae will only kill him if he doesn’t show; being late means nothing to him. So, instead, Yien shakes his head before remembering that Jinyoung isn’t there with him and can’t hear his head shake. 

“No,” he mumbles, wiping the sleep from his eye. “I got back after classes and fell asleep. Are you outside?” There’s a quiet ‘mhmmm’ from Jinyoung’s end. “Alright. I’ll be down in a minute.” 

Yien is already out of bed and moving around by the time he ends the call with Jinyoung and shoves the phone into his pocket. Changing isn’t necessary; it’s not a fancy event so his jeans and t-shirt will do, however wrinkled they might be. His hair is a bit of a mess-- but when is it not?-- and he decides that a quick brush through with his fingers and a dab of mousse is good enough. They’re going to a restaurant, an American style bar and grill, so it’s not like Yien needs to look his best. Honestly, his friends probably wouldn’t care if he showed up in his pajamas, so maybe checking to see if he looks good is really all for Jinyoung. It probably is, and he won’t even deny it. 

Five minutes later, after getting ready and going through the fifteen texts Jinyoung had sent him-- all various forms of ‘are you okay?’ and ‘I hope you’re not dead already’-- Yien is shuffling out the front door to his apartment building. Jinyoung waits for him on the sidewalk, looking so patient for someone who has been waiting for another who should have been ready half an hour ago. Jinyoung smiles and the flashes of color in his vision startle Yien to a stop. 

“Not easy to get use to, is it?” Jinyoung seems to understand why he’d stopped and Yien is grateful that he doesn’t have to explain himself. 

“It’s not even been twenty-four hours,” Yien replies in mock annoyance. “Of course I’m not use to it. Every time you smile it’s like  _ BAM _ , have some color.” He watches as Jinyoung attempts to smother another grin, but it hardly works and more color appears in his vision before fading away. “Let’s go before we’re even more late than we already are.” 

Jinyoung follows along at his side and if Yien didn’t know any better, he’d say that they way Jinyoung bumps into him on occasion, how their hands brush together every few minutes, is purposeful. And Yien would fight it if the color didn’t distract him. But the flashes in his vision calm the way his heart beats in his chest and eases the tension that seems to have seized every muscle in his body. By the time they reach the restaurant, Jinyoung has his fingers linked with Yien’s in such a gentle, absent way that he wonders if Yien even notices. He has to, though, because the moment they’re inside and Yien finds his table of friends, he’s pulling his hand free 

“Yien!” One of the male’s at the table nearly knocks his chair over in his rush to greet Yien, though he hardly seems to notice. “Welcome-- Who’s that?” 

“Youngjae, you could at least be polite.” Yien knows that Youngjae can be tactless at times, blurting out whatever comes to mind without much consideration of those around him. Most of the time it’s funny, but there is the occasion where Yien would like to stuff his head in a blender-- this is one of those occasions. “This is Jinyoung. I met him at the library last night. He insisted on tagging along, wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“One of my best and worst qualities, I’ve been told.” Jinyoung plays along like it’s nothing, and if not for his friend’s presence, Yien might have been beaming. 

They take their seats and Yien goes around introducing Jinyoung to everyone-- Youngjae and his friend Jackson, Yugyeom who had brought Dahyun along, and a couple others who Yien can’t always remember but he knows them by face and often stops to talk to them between classes. They all greet him warmly and soon everyone falls into a quiet chatter with each other as they look over their menus. To Yien’s surprise, Jinyoung knows one of the girls-- Jia, he thinks-- and he listens as they talk about classes and assignments until the server comes to take their order. 

When the waiter has come and gone, the interrogation begins and Yien isn’t sure why he’s so terrified when everyone starts pelting them with questions. There’s the obvious, how Yien isn’t quite ready to announce his discovery, how he’s terrified that he’s going to let something slip because, really, he’s not good at lying and he’s not good at pretending. Let’s not forget how shameless Youngjae can be. But Jinyoung takes everything in stride and answers the questions as they come to him and, much to Yien’s gratefulness, manages to dodge all questions about any sort of relationship between them.

At some point, Yien feels a warmth against his thigh and it only takes him a second to realize it’s Jinyoung’s hand, fingers drumming lightly over his jeans. It’s meant to be comforting, he’s sure, but it does anything but comfort. Color explodes in his field of vision in bright neons and flashing lights, the world vibrates with life, and it’s so overwhelming that, for a second, Yien can’t breathe. His hand finds Jinyoung’s and shoves it away, and just like that the color disappears, lingering in dull hues here and there while some things hold their vibrancy-- but, mostly, his world is dull again. He knows the surprise shows on his face because when he turns and glances at Yugyeom, the boy is watching him with a cheeky sort of curiosity.

Relief comes in the form of food and, for a while, they all have a distraction. Apparently it’s not enough because, as they eat, Yien can feel Jinyoung’s fingers ghost across his leg and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it-- not that he wants to. Yien enjoys the colors as they dance through the room and around the table. He even sees, at one point, the shock of pink that colors Jia’s entire head. It’s bright, a neon sort of pink that so badly wants to play with, but discretion keeps his hands to himself and he does his best to keep quiet as they enjoy their night. 

 

*   *   *

 

“So, who is he really?” They’re barely even in the door when Yugyeom begins his own interrogation and Yien knows there’s no way he’s getting out of this, not even for a much needed study session. It’s late and if there’s one thing he’s not in the mood to endure after a night out, it’s a game of twenty-questions with his roommate.

“Who?” Yien feigns ignorance in hopes that it’ll help, but one look at Yugyeom tells him that the boy isn’t having any of it. “Jinyoung? He’s just a friend.”

Yugyeom is as stubborn as he always has been and he’s still not having it. “I don’t believe you.” 

“Fine,” Yien says with a shrug as he wanders into the kitchen to put their left overs in the fridge and pull out anything that’s more than a week old. “Whatever you want to believe is up to you.” 

There are a few moments of silence and even though Yugyeom watches him closely, Yien thinks the boy has given up for the time being. So he goes about cleaning up, throwing out old styrofoam containers and emptying tupperware to wash and use again. Yugyeom joins him quietly and begins putting away the clean dishes from breakfast earlier this morning. 

Yugyeom is the first to break the silence that’s fallen between them. “Can you grab me the red cup off the counter?” 

Without thinking, Yien reaches for the colored cup and passes it over. Yugyeom takes it and sets it right back down before turning, angling his body towards the older male, arms crossed over his chest and a smug grin plastered across his face. Yien looks up, confused for a moment before it hits him.

Yugyeom just grins. “‘ _ Just a friend’  _ my ass.”

Yien is stunned into silence. He doesn’t have an excuse, can’t even come up with one because his brain short circuits and he’s at a loss for words. He looks like a fish out of water, mouth open, gaping as he searches for something, anything, and eventually comes up with nothing. Until he realizes what’s wrong with this moment, that is.

“What about you?” Yien turns it on Yugyeom, gaze intense. “How did you know that one was red?”

Yugyeom blanks and Yien can see the terror in his eyes. “Uhm…” 

It hits him just like that, the realization, and he’s quick to fit the pieces together to make the picture. “Oh. My. God. Dahyun?” His roommate nods. “Yugyeom, why didn’t you say something?!”

“It’s not a big deal.” Yugyeom shrugs and returns to putting the dishes away. 

Yien doesn’t stop him, but he doesn’t let the subject drop that easily. “Not a big deal? It’s a huge deal! We have to celebrate!”

“That’s kinda why Youngjae threw the party tonight,” Yugyeom answers, finally putting Yien’s curiosity at rest; there hadn’t been any reason for a party, or so he’d thought. “I just told him not to say anything because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Dahyun is kinda quiet, so I didn’t want to overwhelm her with any more fuss than I knew you guys would already make.” 

“Wait…. You told Youngjae but not your roommate? I’m insulted.” Yien feigns hurt, but he really is happy for the boy. Who wouldn’t be? Finding your soulmate isn’t as common as one might think and, to Yien, is definitely a matter to be shared and celebrated-- unless it’s his own, apparently. 

“I didn’t tell him. He figured it out himself ‘cause he’s a nosy asshole.” 

Yien and Yugyeom spend the rest of the night evading homework and talking about how it happened, how they’d each found the one. They talk well into the night, mostly Yugyeom sharing what it’s been like these past few months while Yien drinks it all in. 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of a 30-day writing challenge I'm doing where the first line of the story is the last line of a book I own, which is chosen at random or through a strategic, random selection process (a.k.a asking my friends to pick numbers). This fic's opening line is derived from "The Sweet Far Thing" by Libba Bray.
> 
> I know there are so many soulmate fics like this one out there, but I just couldn't resist the fluff and angst and potential smut.
> 
> Minor Note: Twice's Dahyun is mentioned in the tags but she has a somewhat minor part in the story; she's not a major character.


End file.
